


Five Times Bucky Fell in Love With Steve

by magnuspr1m3



Series: Marvel Oneshots [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Character Death, Civil War (Marvel), Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Steve Rogers, M/M, Protective Bucky Barnes, Stucky - Freeform, five times the love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 06:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6183673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnuspr1m3/pseuds/magnuspr1m3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>... And the one time it was too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Bucky Fell in Love With Steve

**Author's Note:**

> This was a drabble I did on tumblr that I felt like throwing up on here. So, here you go.

The first time Bucky could not remember. 

He had been five, playing out by the alleyway with his little army men. He heard a loud hissing, followed by some shouting down the back of the alley. He had looked down the way confused, stashing his army men behind a trash can and rushing back when he heard the sounds of a scuffle. There were four big kids, eight year olds probably, gathered around this one scrawny kid, wailing on him. The kid had his body curled around a mangy looking kitten, who just pressed itself tightly against him and batted a paw at anything that came near.

“Hey!” He had snapped, finding their attention suddenly on him. He mustered up his courage, holding his fists before him. “Pick on s-someone your own size!” James had yelled at them. They had laughed, converging on him. He fought like mad, landing quite a few punches and kicks of his own. He still got the snot beat out of him, but they eventually gave up.

He had wiped a little bit of blood from under his nose after they left, spitting on the ground like he had seen his daddy do after a bar fight once - whatever that was. “You better run!” He yelled after them. It was then that he looked to the little kid, still curled around the kitten and crying into the dirt. “Hey, kid! They’re gone!” He said, moving to pick him up. The kitten lashed out at him, but he just flicked its nose at that, glaring. The kid could not be older than three, he was so small. He might have been four, but Bucky sort of doubted that. “You okay? I’m James, but everybody calls me Bucky.”

“St-steve.” The kid managed, looking at him with big, watery blue eyes. “T’ank you.”

He nodded, offering the kid a grin as he helped him stand. “O’ course. Wanna come play soldiers with me, Steve? I got ‘em down at the entrance, but if ya want, you could probably come to my place. My ma won’t mind.”

The other had nodded, and that was that. They were friends from then on out. And Bucky loved his new friend. (And not just cause he wasn’t a girl, like all of his sisters. He lived next door, too!)

* * *

He had loved Steve for a while before his mother’s funeral. That was not right, though. Shit like that would get you sent to Hell, both of their mom’s had said. And killed, like he had witnessed one time too many at a bar he frequented a few blocks away.

But, Lord, seeing Steve suffer like that? Trying to put on a brave face as they lowered his ma’s coffin into the ground? He almost said fuck it and just held him, then and there.

Bucky had resisted, though.

He had resisted until Steve had told him no, that he could “get by on his own.” Bucky had sighed, shaking his head and putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder; as close as they could probably get at the moment. “The thing is… you don’t have to. I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, pal.”

The smile that had gotten him, albeit small, had made his heart flutter. Fuck, he was a goner.

* * *

The bar had been bustling, all of the men from his platoon rejoicing at being back. He was not, though. He was hiding, curled around his drink and just staring. This… This was not _right_. Steve-

_That was not Steve._

Sure, he sounded like him and had those same damn baby blues, but that man, in the tight fighting uniform talking to him now? That was not Steve. That was _Captain America._

At Steve’s question, about following _Captain America_  into the “jaws of death,” he snorted and shook his head. “Hell no.” He paused some, taking in the _Captain’s_ briefly saddened expression. “That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight… I’m following him.”

And the grin that got him made it worth it. That grin, that was  _Steve._  His Steve.

His joy did not last for long, though. In came some dame clad in red, sauntering up to Steve who just did not look away and _fuck_. Of course Steve would love her. She was gorgeous, and not some damn queer who was supposed to be his best friend. It broke his heart a little, to force himself to flirt with her, and just watch Steve stare at her as she left.

No, not Steve, he tried to convince himself. _Captain America._

That made it a little easier to ignore the pain. That and booze.

* * *

It was decades later before he felt that spark again. He had spent years running, from himself, Hydra, the _man from the bridge_. Years moving from place to place. He could only hide in so many places, though, before someone caught him.

As had become his custom, apparently, Steve showed up to save him.

He knew him. Knew the look on his face he grabbed Bucky by his shoulders, had looked him in the eyes and-

_The guard had just rushed the scientists out, leaving him still drugged up. Then, floating over him, was Steve. Steve. He did not realize he was saying the name, over and over again. The other was pulling him up, making him stand. He was… different._

_“_ Weren’t you… smaller?” He managed as Steve worked to pry the vice from his arm.

Steve had just laughed, looking both relieved and saddened. “Yeah.” He whispered, pulling Bucky against him. “Yeah. I was.”

And the small smile Steve gave him as he helped out of the compound and onto a quinjet? It warms him endlessly.

* * *

The fifth time, it just sort of… happened. Bucky had been in hysterics, pushing him away over and over again. He could not do it. He kept lashing out, kept hurting Steve in his relapsing into the asset Hydra had made him to be. “Leave me,” He had begged. “Steve, just leave me. I can’t do this to you.”

The soft reply had thrown him off a bit. “I’m not leavin' you, Buck.”

He felt the soft hand on his shoulder, turning him. He saw that heartbroken look in Steve’s eyes, one of them black from _him_ , and he tried to ignore the overwhelming guilt at that. “I’m not leaving you.” And then there were lips on his, and hands in his hair, and he just could not hold back. This was it. This was how they were meant to be. He felt it, deep in his heart. They melded together so easily, bodies slotting perfectly.

He had imagined this before, of course. Had imagined actually being with Steve. But reality was so much better, perfect even.

He loved the man laying beside him, panting just as much as he was and with that little grin on his face Bucky loved so much. He loved him, but he just could not find the words. It was all encompassing; there were no words. None that could do it justice. So he just smiled back.

* * *

The last time Bucky realizes it, he is too late.

He blames Stark at first. Has to be stopped from running after the man to kill him, to put a bullet through him like the one that had killed Steve. “ _This is all your fault!”_  He had shouted at the man, thrashing in T’Challa and Clint’s hold. If Stark had just sided with them, sided with his team…

Steve might have lived. He might have lived just long enough for Bucky to tell him, to take him aside and explain just how much he loved him.


End file.
